


Falling for You

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jack, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-23 06:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Jack fell a story and crashed into the concrete below.  He's got broken bones, and no one knows if he'll ever be okay again, especially not Mac, and it's killing him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be a quick 1,000 word piece of fluff based on the prompt "I'm just really tired of watching you get thrown off the tops of buildings". Instead, this angstfest started pouring out. WARNING: This is NOT my usual fare. That said, read on.

Three days.  That’s how long Angus “Mac” MacGyver had been sitting beside his partner Jack Dalton’s bedside waiting for him to wake up.  Three days, six hours, 47, minutes and 12 seconds to be precise.  That was--Mac did the calculation in his head—283,632 seconds, and every one of them seemed to drag out forever.  The more seconds that ticked by, the further away Jack got, the less likely it was that he would come back to Mac.  Mac knew exactly what made the clock on the wall tick, every gear, every spring, every little moving piece that made the hands spin relentlessly minute by minute, and he wanted to rip them all out and _make it stop_.  No, he wanted to turn it backwards to when it all started and have it never happen in the first place.

Mac closed his eyes and watched the scene play out in vivid detail, just like it did every time.  It was why he’d barely slept—he was tired of seeing it again and again.  Tired of watching them run up three flights of stairs to the roof, footsteps echoing like gunshots with each step, Jack’s voice reverberating in the small space, bouncing back at them as he yelled for their target to stop.  Tired of remembering the sun shining in their faces, temporarily blinding them, giving the target just enough time while they adjusted to barrel into Jack, knocking him back over the railing and falling over himself.  Tired of watching Jack plummet to the landing below with a sickening thud, the target landing on top of him and rolling to his feet, Jack not moving.  Tired of having the exact speed, distance, and force of Jack’s fall run through his brain.  Tired of calculating the odds of Jack not sustaining injury.  Tired of calculating the odds of Jack surviving at all.

Mac didn’t really remember what happened next.  He remembered hearing someone scream, an anguished cry of “Noooooo!!!!” and realizing it was probably him.  He remembered crouching next to Jack, frantically feeling for a pulse, nearly sobbing when it found it, faint, thready, but there.  He remembered yelling, knowing he intended to call for help, but not even sure what sounds came out of his mouth or who heard them.  He remembered someone speaking to him, Riley or Bozer or both, but he couldn’t remember the words, and he wasn’t even sure if they were there or over the coms.  He remembered strong, unfamiliar arms pulling him away from Jack’s body.  He remembered struggling, kicking at them, trying to break free and run back to Jack.  He remembered a pinprick in his arm.  Then he didn’t remember anything.

Mac woke up confused and disoriented, not sure where he was or why.  He heard a soft “Hey,” from next to him, and turned his head to see Riley and Bozer standing next to him (bed—hospital—his brain supplied), looking concerned.  “What happened?” he asked.  “Where’s Jack?”

Riley and Bozer looked at each other, a silent debate passing between them.  Mac felt panic rise in him as the silence dragged on.  “Where is he?” he demanded.

“Jack’s in surgery,” Riley said.

That’s when it all came rushing back.  The stairs.  The fall.  Jack’s body, motionless on the ground.  Mac struggled to his feet.  “Where is he?  I have to see him!”

Hands on his chest pushed him back down onto the bed.  “You can’t,” Riley said.  “He’s in surgery,” she repeated.

 “Is he alright?”  Another look passed between his friends.  “Tell me,” he demanded.  “You have to tell me.”

“They don’t know,” Bozer said, finally. 

Mac needed to know more.  “Why not?  What’s wrong?”

It was Riley’s turn again.  “He sustained a lot of damage, Mac.  Fractured skull, fractured vertebrae, fractured femur _and_ tibia.”

“And?”  All that was bad, but Mac could tell they were still holding something back.  He was met with silence.  “ _Tell me_.”

“Pressure on the skull and spine,” Bozer said, reluctantly.  “That’s why he’s in surgery—they’re trying to relieve it.  Once that goes down, they’ll operate on the leg.”

Mac thumped his head back against the pillow.  That was bad, really bad.  “Oh, god, no.  Not Jack.”  Mac couldn’t even formulate the next sentence.  “Is he. . .?  Will he. . .?”

Bozer seemed to know what he was asking.  “They don’t know, Mac.  He’s not a vegetable, they know that.  Other than that. . .no one knows.  They have to wait for him to wake up.”

“And when will that be?”  His friends did the silent debate thing again.  “He _will_ wake up, right?”  They didn’t say anything.  Mac felt the panic rising again.  “ _Right?_ ”

“He’ll be out of surgery in a couple of hours,” Riley said.  “After that. . .”

“They don’t know,” Mac finished.

“They don’t know,” his friends echoed.

That was three days ago.  Mac looked at the clock again—three days, 52 minutes, and 35 seconds.  They were now up to 283,967 seconds, and no sign of Jack waking up.  His brain function seemed normal, and he was breathing on his own, both good signs, but he remained unresponsive to stimuli.  Mac reached for Jack’s hand, squeezing lightly, hoping against hope this time there was some response, but there was nothing.  “Please, Jack,” Mac begged.  “You have to wake up, buddy.  I need to see those big, brown eyes again, need to hear you say my name, need to tell you. . .” Mac swallowed around the lump in his throat, “. . .need to tell you I love you.  So, so much.”  Tears Mac couldn’t hold back flowed down his face and fell on Jack’s still body.  Mac squeezed his friend’s hand tighter—no, not his friend, the love of his life—he could admit that now, at least to himself, and, hopefully, to Jack if he ever woke up.  “I can’t bear not to know if we ever had a chance.  Please.”

Jack squeezed back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be multiple chapters, and there will almost certainly be a happy ending because I can't do that much angst, but I have no idea how I'm getting from here to there. But, you're welcome to come along for the ride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's coming out of it, albeit slowly.

Relief flooded over Mac.  Jack was awake.  Mac hit the call button, heart leaping for joy.  Jack was awake, and everything was going to be okay.  Mac refused to acknowledge the part of his brain the reminded him being awake was only the first step—they still didn’t know how much damage had been done.  Mac had high hopes that Jack wasn’t paralyzed, though—after all, the older man had squeezed Mac’s hand.  That was good.  That was very good.

 

A nurse came into the room.  “What can I do for you?”

 

“He’s awake!” Mac said, joyously.  The nurse looked at Jack, still lying in the bed, eyes closed, then looked back at Mac, dubious.  “Well, he squeezed my hand.”

 

The nurse smiled gently at him.  Mac ignored the fact that the smile was laced with pity.  It didn’t matter if she didn’t believe him—Mac knew what he’d felt.  “I’ll get the doctor,” she said.

 

Mac waited impatiently for the doctor, eyes trained on his partner, looking for some further sign of consciousness, but there was nothing.  Still, Mac refused to be daunted.  Jack _was_ going to wake up.  He _had_ to.

 

It was probably only a few minutes before the doctor came in, but it seemed like an eternity to Mac.  “Well, well, well,” he said, jovially, “I understand there’s been a change in Mr. Dalton’s condition.”

 

“He squeezed my hand,” Mac said.  He tone was more muted than before, but still laced with excitement.

 

“He may be coming out of the coma,” the doctor said.  “Let’s take a look, shall we?”  He picked up Jack’s hand, limp once more.  “Mr. Dalton, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”  Nothing.

 

Mac’s hopes fell, but he refused to give up completely.  “He squeezed my hand.  I know he did!”

 

“He may very well have,” the doctor said.  “Sometimes it’s an unconscious response, sometimes it’s a sign they’re coming out.  Let me check a few more things.”  He pulled out a penlight and peeled open Jack’s eyes, shining the light in them.  “Pupils are reactive.”  He poked at Jack’s hand.  It twitched.  “He’s responding to stimuli.  He’s definitely coming out of it.”

 

Mac’s heart leapt at the positive news.  “So, why won’t he wake up?”

 

“It’s not like in the movies,” the doctor said.  “It doesn’t happen all at once.  He’ll probably be in and out for awhile.”

 

“Oh.”  It wasn’t what Mac wanted to hear, but at least it was something.  “How long will that be?”

 

“I don’t know,” the doctor said.  Mac was really beginning to hate that phrase.  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

“But he will come out, right?” Mac said, seeking reassurance.

 

“I think so, yes,” the doctor affirmed.

 

“And he’ll be alright?”

 

The doctor put his hand on Mac’s arm.  “I can’t make you any promises, Mr. MacGyver.  It’s still too soon to tell.  We won’t really know anything until he wakes up fully.”

 

“But he’s not paralyzed, right?”  Mac was still seeking reassurance.

 

“Not above the waist, and not on that side,” the doctor said.  “We’ll have to see with the legs, and he his psychomotor skills could still be impaired by the head injury.”

 

Mac’s good mood at Jack squeezing his hand was rapidly evaporating.  There were still so many unknowns.  Still, this was definite progress.  “Well, thanks, doc.  At least this is something.”

 

The doctor gave Mac’s arm another reassuring pat.  “Just think positive.  Believe me, it helps.”

 

“I can do that,” Mac said. 

 

The doctor left, and Mac decided to call Riley and Bozer and let them know what was going on.  The news wasn’t as good as Mac would have liked, but at least he could report progress.

 

“How’s Jack?” was the first thing Riley said when she picked up.

 

“I’ve got news,” Mac said.  “Good news,” he hastened to add, lest she think the worst.

 

“Bozer’s here.  Let me put you on speaker.”

 

Bozer’s voice came through the phone.  “What’s up?  Is Jack awake?”

 

“Yes.  No.  Sort of.”  Mac tried to find the words to explain.  “He squeezed my hand, but he hasn’t fully woken up yet.  The doctor says he’s coming out of it, though.”

 

“That’s great!” Bozer exclaimed.

 

Mac could hear Riley’s sigh of relief.  “So, he’s going to be okay.”

 

Mac hated to burst their bubble, but he owed it to them to tell them the rest.  “It’s still too early to tell,” he said.  “It doesn’t look like he’s paralyzed above the waist, but they don’t know about his legs, and he could still be impaired.  It’s definitely positive, though.”  Mac was reassuring himself as much as them.

 

“That’s good.  That’s something,” Riley said.  “Keep us posted.”

 

“I will,” Mac said.  He hung up and went back into Jack’s room.  Jack was moaning, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow.  Mac was afraid he’d hurt himself.  He rushed to his partner’s side.

 

“Easy, Jack, settle down.”

The thrashing continued.  “Unnnnhhhh!”

 

“Jack, you have to calm down,” Mac urged.

 

“Unnhh!”

 

Mac kept talking soothingly, hoping to get through to Jack.  After a bit, the thrashing eased.  “Mac?”  Jack’s voice was slurred.  Mac barely recognized his name.

 

“Yeah, Jack, it’s me.  I’m here.”

 

“Mac,” Jack said again.

 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

 

“Mac!” 

 

Mac reached for Jack hand, holding on tight.  There was no mistaking Jack’s return grip this time.  “Mac!”

 

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.”

 

Jack kept saying Mac’s name, over and over, finally lapsing into an incoherent mutter.  He seemed to be falling asleep.

 

“Hey, hey, Jack, stay with me.”

 

More mutters.  Mac disentangled his hand from Jack’s and reached for the call button.  Jack’s hand twitched, clearly searching for Mac’s.  “Mac!”

 

Mac quickly returned his hand.  Jack gripped it as if it were the only thing tethering him in place, and maybe it was.  “It’s okay, I’m just calling the doctor.”

 

“Mac!”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Stay!”  That was the last coherent word Jack uttered before he lapsed back into unconsciousness, hand still gripping Mac’s.

 

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Mac told his unconscious friend.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a medical expert. What I know is pieced together from limited personal experience and what I've read and seen. My apologies for any glaring errors.
> 
> Fair warning, Jack's still got a long road ahead of him, and it's not going to be smooth. Also, I'm not planning on 100% recovery, though he's not going to be confined to a wheelchair, either. It'll all work out, I promise.
> 
> And, there will be a small sex scene at some point, because I think it's important.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damage assessment

It took another day and a half for Jack to wake up fully—Mac stop counting because it got too discouraging. He kept reminding himself that the doctor had said it would take time, but just how much time was it going to take, anyway? Surely, Jack would wake up any minute. Mac waited anxiously every time the doctor came in, but all he ever got was “He'll come around. Just be patient.” Mac knew about patience. Patience was taking the time to piece together delicate instrumentation, like a watch. Patience was waiting for a chemical reaction to finish. Mac had that kind of patience, no problem. Waiting for the man he was hopelessly in love with to come out of a coma, not so much.

 

Mac was even more loathe to move from Jack's side than before. Now, it was even more important for Mac to be there when Jack woke up, and that could be any minute. That's what Mac kept telling himself as the minutes went by without Jack returning to full consciousness.

 

Jack hadn't slipped back into the coma, either, which the doctor assured Mac was a good sign. The older man seemed to spend most of his time in a restless sleep, moaning incoherently, only the occasional “Mac!” escaping his lips, the calls increasing in frequency and intensity if, for some reason, Jack sensed Mac wasn't there.

 

Jack continued to grip Mac's hand like a lifeline, his hand twitching and reaching out for the younger agent's if Mac ever let go. Mac took to eating one-handed so he didn't have to let go. If Jack needed Mac to hold his hand, Mac would hold it forever. Mac didn't want to admit that maybe he needed the connection just as much.

 

Mac was leaning back in his chair, hand still tightly holding Jack's, dozing a bit, when Jack moaned his name again. “Mac.”

 

Mac leaned forward, just like he did every time, searching Jack's face for some sign of wakefulness. He expected to see Jack's eyes still firmly closed, just like he did every time, but instead, brown orbs stared back at him. Mac's face broke into a grin. “Hey, you're awake.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to startle Jack, but the blond wanted to shout the news at the top of his lungs.

 

“Where am I?” Jack slurred. Mac was concerned at the fuzziness, but he chalked it up to not being fully awake yet.

 

“Hospital,” Mac said.

 

“Wha' hppn'd?”

 

Mac's heart sank. “You don't remember?” Mac knew it was pretty common for trauma victims not to remember the event, but it was still a blow.

 

Jack shook his head, wincing at the pain.

 

“Let me call the doctor,” Mac said, evading the question.

 

“M'kay.” Jack's eyes drifted closed again, but they opened as soon as the doctor walked in.

 

“Well, well, Mr. Dalton, glad you decided to join us.”

 

“Wha' hppn'd?”

 

The doctor glanced at Mac.

 

“He doesn't remember,” Mac supplied. “I didn't tell him. I thought I'd let you break the news to him.” Cowardly, yes, but Mac didn't want to be the one to tell Jack he might never be the same again.

 

The doctor nodded and turned his attention back to the man in the bed. “You took a nasty fall, Mr. Dalton. I'll let your partner tell you the details, but the bottom line is, you were pretty badly injured.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“Well, for starters, you pretty much smashed your left leg. We had to piece it back together with pins. That you'll probably recover from. Maybe not fully, but with therapy, I'd say there's a pretty good chance they could get you up to, say, 90% of normal.”

 

Jack shook his head. “Not good enough.”

 

“I'm afraid that's the least of your problems, Mr. Dalton,” the doctor said.

 

“Wha' else?”

 

“Fractured skull and vertebrae. There was some swelling, but we managed to get it down.”

 

“Paralyzed?” There was a note of panic in Jack's voice. He started struggling, trying to move everything at once and flailing about. His hand almost knocked Mac in the face, but the younger man caught it and gripped it in both hands.

 

“Calm down, Jack,” Mac said, soothingly. “You're not paralyzed.”

 

Jack relaxed but tensed again at the doctor's next words. “Not above the waist.”

 

“Below?” The panic was back.

 

“Let's find out. Wiggle your right toes.”

 

Jack concentrated, and they twitched.

 

“Good,” the doctor said. “Now, your left.”

 

Jack tried. “Hurts.”

 

“I know,” the doctor said, “but I need to you try. It's important.”

 

Jack tried again. Just as he seemed ready to give up, the toes twitched slightly.

 

“Excellent,” the doctor said. “Now, let me check your reflexes.” He tapped at both Jack's feet, pleased at the response. “Both legs are responding. I think we can safely say you're not paralyzed.”

 

Jack wasn't fully calmed. “Why...hard...move?”

 

“I think there's some psychomotor damage from the head injury,” the doctor said. “Probably why your speech is slurred, too. Let me check a few more things.” He reached for the hand holding Mac's. “Squeeze.”

 

Jack seemed reluctant to let go, apparently afraid Mac would disappear if he did.

 

“It's okay,” Mac said. “I'm right here.”

 

Jack loosened his grip and transferred it to the doctor, squeezing hard.

 

“Good,” the doctor said. “Now, the other.”

 

The doctor held out his hand. Jack tried to lift his left arm, but it flailed about and kept falling back to the bed. In frustration, he finally lifted it and guided it over to the doctor's. The solider clumsily wrapped his fingers around the doctor's wrist, squeezing lightly.

 

“Okay,” the doctor said. “Harder if you can.”

 

Jack tried, but finally let his hand fall with a growl. “Can't.”

 

“It's okay,” the doctor said. “You did your best.”

 

“You did good, Jack,” Mac assured him. “We don't expect you to be able to do everything.”

 

Jack clearly disagreed. “Why not?”

 

“Looks like there was some damage to the right side of the brain, affecting your left side,” the doctor said.

 

Jack's eyes widened in fright. “Perm'nt?”

 

“I don't know. I'd like you to see a neurologist, and they'll do a more thorough evaluation. For now, just a few more tests. What's your name?”

 

“Jack Dalton,” Jack said, though it clearly took effort.

 

“Good.” The doctor motioned to Mac. “And this man?”

 

“Mac. Angus Mac...MacGyver.”

 

“Good.” The doctor pulled some picture cards out of his pocket. “I'd like you to tell me what's on each of those cards.” He showed Jack the first one.

 

“Dog.”

 

“Good.” The doctor flipped to the next card.

 

“Cat.”

 

Next.

 

“Chair.”

 

The doctor flipped through five or six cards with Jack answering correctly, sometimes more rapidly than others. Mac could tell sometimes it was hard for Jack to find the words, and the blond's heart clenched. What did it mean? Was Jack ever going to be “normal”--whatever that meant—again?

 

Then the doctor came to a picture of a table. Jack paused.

 

“What's this, Mr. Dalton?” the doctor prompted.

 

Jack's face scrunched up in frustration. “I. . .don't know.”

 

“Sure, you do, Mr. Dalton. Now, tell me.”

 

Jack's fist clenched, and he pounded the bed in frustration. “Wood. Sit.”

 

Mac couldn't stand seeing his friend falter any longer. “It's a table, Jack.”

 

“Dammit. Knew that.”

 

The doctor patted Jack's hand. “It's fine, Mr. Dalton. It seems there's some sign of aphasia. It's not unusual in these circumstances.”

 

“Will it pass?” Mac asked, anxiously.

 

“Hard to tell,” the doctor said. Mac growled in frustration. “I know I keep saying that, Mr. MacGyver, but there's too many variables in situations like these, and we know far too little about the brain. I can tell you we'll do the best we can.”

 

Mac had to accept that. “Okay. Right, Jack?”

 

Jack had closed his eyes, but he nodded slightly. The doctor left.

 

Jack remained silent after the doctor left. Mac picked up Jack's hand and squeezed it as had become his habit. “Hey, it's okay, buddy. Everything's going to be okay.”

 

Mac could see tears leaking from the corners of Jack's eyes. “No,” Jack mumbled. “Not okay. Not okay at all.”

 

Mac's heart broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that ended on a downer. I won't say it's not bad, but it will work out! I'm not sure if next chapter will be better, but we will go uphill eventually! Hang in there!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery starts.

Jack Dalton did not take things lying down. When something came at him, his instinct was to fight it, subdue it, and beat it to a bloody pulp, generally literally. He wasn't good at sitting around doing nothing, and he hated feeling helpless. But here he was, lying in a hospital bed, unable to do much of anything except watch TV, and it was driving him crazy. Riley bought him a tablet and loaded it with spy novels (which Jack scoffed at--”Why do I need novels when I'm the real thing?”), but Jack found it difficult to hold and swipe at the same time. Even when Mac got made him a tablet stand with Phoenix's 3D printer, Jack couldn't read more than a few pages without getting frustrated because the words didn't make sense. Finally, Riley got narration for the books, and that helped some, but Jack was still bored.

 

It was at least as hard on Mac, watching Jack spiral into a depression born of boredom and the unknown and not being able to do anything. Mac wanted to wave a magic wand and make everything better, but this was one situation he couldn't improvise his way out of. All he could do was be there for Jack, reassure him that things would get better, and, always, hold his hand. Jack might come across as a “manly man”, but he was very tactile, and Mac's touch seemed to ground him. So, Mac stayed by his side and held on for dear life.

 

The one good thing was Jack had plenty of time to work on his speech. The speech pathologist came by every day to work with Jack, who pushed himself far beyond what she recommended. Jack would get frustrated, and the pathologist would suggest stopping for the day, but Jack would insist on continuing until he was exhausted and trembling as if he'd been through a full physical workout instead of just trying to say a few words. Mac would wipe Jack's brow and stroke his hair soothingly in a gesture far too intimate for just friends or even brothers, but Jack never said anything. In fact, the older man leaned into his partner's touch, so Mac didn't stop.

 

After a week or so, Jack had mastered the basic “see Spot run” and could make it through a page or two of his novel before it got to be too much. He still sometimes had trouble coming up with simple words, though. Some days, he'd see a picture of a cat and name it with no problem, and others he'd stumble, saying “Fur. Whiskers. Meows” until he was practically crying in frustration. Mac would just gently wipe the tears away with his thumb and tell Jack how well he was doing. He really was, even if the older man didn't believe it.

 

By the third week, Jack could mostly hold a conversation, the slur still there, but barely noticeable, only stopping occasionally to think of a word, and he could read almost as easily as before. Jack still wasn't satisfied, insisting he could do better, until the doctor harshly informed him it was probably as good as it was going to get—he would probably always have some problems coming up with the right words, and he'd better get used to it. Jack had cried what seemed like gallons of tears at that, and it took hours for Mac to calm him down. He told Matty what had happened, and she promptly had another doctor assigned to Jack. Mac at least got some satisfaction imagining how that conversation had gone. Matty had almost certainly ripped the doctor, the hospital, and anyone else she could think of a new one for daring to treat one of her best agents that way.

 

At the end of three weeks, the day came that they had all been waiting for. The doctor ordered x-rays and perused the results while the whole team, including Matty, stood anxiously by waiting for the results. The doctor's face was impassive as he flipped through the films. Finally, Jack could stand it no longer.

 

“How's it look, doc?” he asked, nervously.

 

The doctor's face broke into a grin. “It's looking good. Skull is healing, back is healing, you're progressing as you should. You'll still need a back brace for at least three weeks, and I don't want you putting any wait on that leg for at least that long, but I'd say you're ready to go home. I'll have them get the paperwork ready.”

 

Jack's face split in a huge grin, and the team whooped. Even Matty smiled at the news. Mac squeezed his partner's hand. “Hear that buddy, you're going home.”

 

Jack couldn't stop smiling. “Yeah. I'm going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, it's getting better. Not perfect, I know, but I'm trying not to wave the magic wand on this one, so you're not going to get a quick "everything's alright". It will be though--maybe not like it used to be, but a new normal. Just hang in there!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack comes home. Mac has a confession.

“Welcome home!” Mac pushed Jack's wheelchair into the house and spread his arms expansively to encompass the whole house.

 

“This isn't my house,” Jack grumbled.

 

Mac sighed. “Jack, we went over this. You need someone to look after you.”

 

“I could do it on my own,” Jack insisted.

 

“No, you couldn't!” Mac snapped, exasperated. “It's this or 24-hour home care,” he continued in a more reasonable voice.

 

“So, that's why you're doing this? Because it's better than home care?”

 

“No, Jack, I'm doing it because I love you.” The words slipped out before Mac could stop them, but he wasn't taking them back.

 

“This goes way beyond friendship,” Jack said.

 

“I don't love you like a friend.” Apparently, Mac's brain/mouth filter was nonexistent. It was the truth, though.

 

“A brother shouldn't have to do this, either,” Jack said.

 

“I don't love you like a brother, either.” In for a penny, in for a pound. This wasn't how Mac had planned to tell Jack he loved him, but it looked like he was doing this.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jack asked, sounding slightly suspicious, as if Mac might be playing some sort of joke.

 

Mac knelt in front of Jack so the older man could see his face. The blond took a deep breath, preparing to bare his soul. “I mean I'm in love with you. Madly, deeply, passionately in love with you.”

 

“Why?” Jack asked, sounding like he didn't believe it. “Why would you be in love with _me_?”

 

Mac wished Jack wouldn't sound so much like he didn't think he deserved to be loved. “Why not?” Mac countered. “You're handsome, smart--even though you act like a buffoon,  I know better-- loyal, caring, and, though I'll deny it if you ever ask me again, funny.”

 

“I'm also broken,” Jack pointed out.

 

“No, you're not,” Mac told him, forcefully. He grinned, trying to make light of the situation. “Slightly bruised maybe, but not broken.”

 

Jack wasn't having any of it. “Yes, I am!” he nearly shouted. “Look at me Mac. I'm in a wheelchair. I can't walk, I can barely talk, my left arm's practically useless, and my leg's in pieces. You said it yourself—I can't do anything by myself. I'm worthless.”

 

“No, you're not, Jack,” Mac argued. “You'll heal. It'll take time, sure, but you'll be as good as new.”

 

“No, I won't!” Jack was getting worked up, his speech slurring and the words taking longer to come. “You heard the ddddoctor. I'll never be the same again. How ccccan you lllove someone like that?”

 

Mac looked Jack straight in the eye. “Because I love  _you_ . I don't care if you're in a wheelchair. I don't care if you never walk again, and you will, so don't say you won't.  I don't care if your speech is slurred and sometimes you forget words,  _I'll_ always know what you mean. I wouldn't even care if you were paralyzed. I'd still love you. I've loved you for a long time, and  _nothing_ is going to change that.”

 

Jack looked away. “You ddddon't mmmmean that.” He tone was filled with anguish, and Mac's heart ached for his friend—no, for his love.

 

Mac grabbed Jack's chin, forcing him to look at Mac. “Yes, I do,” Mac insisted. 

 

Jack jerked away, getting distressed again. “No, you don't! You'll get tired of this, and you'll rrrresent me! And I...I couldn't take it if you lllleft me!” Tears were filling Jack's eyes, threatening to spill down his face, and his fists were clenching and unclenching as if he were looking for something to hit.

 

Mac grabbed Jack's chin again. “Look, at me, Jack.” Jack did, reluctantly. “I will  _never_ leave you, no matter what. Look at all we've been through. I haven't left you yet, and I'm not leaving now.”

 

“Yes, you will!” 

 

Mac didn't know how to get through to Jack, so he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jack's, gently, tenderly, lovingly, hoping his message got through.

 

Jack kissed back greedily, taking everything Mac had to give, and Mac let him have it all—all the pent up love, all the fear  he felt while Jack was in the hospital , all the caring he had inside. Mac opened his mouth, and Jack's tongue entered eagerly, exploring every inch, running along Mac's teeth and twining with the blond's own  tongue . This kiss went on and on, and Mac let it happen, letting Jack have everything he needed.

 

Finally, they pulled apart and rested their foreheads against each other. “Do you believe me now?” Mac asked, slightly breathless.

 

“No,” Jack admitted, “but you seem to mean it, so I guess I have to. I still don't know why you picked me, though.”

 

Mac kissed him again. “I already told you why. You're my  _partner_ , Jack, and I want that in every sense of the word as long as you'll have me.”

 

“I want it forever,” Jack said.

 

“Then, that's how long you'll have me,” Mac swore.

 

“I don't know how to do this,” Jack confessed. “I'm not good at relationships. Never had time for them.”

 

“We'll make the time,” Mac assured him. “We have to get through this first.”

 

“How are we going to do that?” Jack asked in a tone of despair.

 

“One step at a time,” Mac said. He smiled slightly. “Literally.”

 

“I don't know if I can,” Jack said in a small, uncertain voice.

 

“I know you can,” Mac said, confidently. “You're the most determined, most stubborn person I know. I haven't seen anything yet you can't get through with sheer grit, and I know you're going to get through this, too.”

 

Jack considered Mac's words, then nodded, slowly. “You'll be there for me?” he asked, still unsure.

 

“Every step of the way,” Mac said. “Again, literally.” Another small smile. This time, Jack returned it, and Mac's heart filled with hope. They _would_ get through this, together, just like the y always did.

 

Jack still seemed to need reassurance.  “Promise?”  he asked.

 

“Promise,” Mac said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Mac finally told Jack he loved him. Hope you liked it! Now, Jack knows he won't be alone. He's still got a long road ahead of him, but at least he'll have Mac by his side. And, as I promised, there will be a small sex scene soon, because it's important to the plot (and who doesn't love a good sex scene? ;) )


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac shows Jack that just because his movements restricted, it doesn't mean they can't have good sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is--the promised sex scene. It isn't much--just wanted to show that they could still have a sexual relationship even though Jack's not 100%. Hope you like it!

Loving Jack was not easy. He was moody, easily frustrated, and often angry, and he lashed out at the nearest person, usually Mac. The first three weeks while Jack was still in the back brace and unable to put weight on his leg were pure hell. Jack hated not even being able to even go to the bathroom on his own, and several times Mac caught him trying. Once, Jack even fell trying to stand, and Mac panicked, afraid the other man would hurt his back or his leg even more.

 

There were positives, too. Now that Jack's speech was under control, a therapist hand-picked by Matty came to the house daily to work on Jack's hand. That caused more frustration, and, once again, Jack pushed himself to the limits and beyond, but he was slowly regaining motion in his hand, though it was still far too slow for Jack's liking.

 

Through it all, Mac stood by him as promised, cheering every small victory, providing encouragement when Jack slipped into despair, and holding his hand at every opportunity. Mac asked Jack why that was so important to him, and Jack replied that it grounded him, gave him something to hold onto, and reminded him that someone was there for him no matter what. Mac resolved he would _never_ stop holding onto Jack.

 

Jack seemed to need Mac's presence when he slept as well. The soldier would toss and turn restlessly if Mac wasn't there beside him, but settled down immediately when Mac slotted against his side like he belonged, which, if you asked either of them, he did.

 

They were lying together one night, Jack on his back, Mac snuggled into the other man's side, when Mac idly started tracing designs on Jack's chest. The blond's fingers wandered until they circled lightly around one nipple, then rolled it between long, slender digits. Jack groaned, and Mac took that as encouragement, leaning down to lick Jack's nipple, teasing it into a hard nub.

 

Jack clumsily grabbed Mac's wrist with his bad hand. “Stop.”

 

Mac immediately pulled back. “Sorry. I shouldn't have pushed.”

 

“No, it's not that.” Jack paused, trying to find the words. “It's just. . .I can't.”

 

“I understand,” Mac said. “If you're not ready, we can wait.”

 

“No,” Jack said. “I'm ready. God knows I'm ready. It's just, I can't.”

 

“I don't understand,” Mac said, confused.

 

Jack was getting frustrated. “I can't do anything to you. I can't roll over, I can't reach you with my good hand and if I tried with my left I'd probably brain you, I can't do anything.”

 

“You can kiss me,” Mac pointed out, suiting actions to words and reaching over to catch Jack's lips in what was meant to be a lingering kiss, but Jack pulled back after a few seconds.

 

“It's not enough,” Jack said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.”

 

“Jack,” Mac said, “you don't have to. Pleasuring you is more than enough for me. I love the way I can make you groan with a swipe of my tongue over your nipples--” Mac did just that, and Jack did, indeed, moan--”and writhe beneath me when I touch your cock.” Again, Mac matched his words with his hand, stroking languidly. Jack gasped in pleasure and bucked his hips up into Mac's hand. “God, Jack, you look so beautiful like this, and you don't know how it makes me feel to know _I'm_ the one doing it to you. I get hard just looking at you.”  Mac rubbed his length against Jack's thigh, letting the older man feel his growing erection. “Believe me, Jack, I don't need anything else.”

 

“I do,” Jack said. “It's not fair that you can do all that, and I can't do a thing to you.”

 

Mac thought for a moment. “I have an idea. We've already established there's nothing wrong with your mouth, right?”

 

“Right,” Jack said, not following Mac's train of thought.

 

Mac squirmed around, throwing off the covers and twisting until his feet were by Jack's head, narrowly missing kicking the other man. Jack dodged just in time. Nothing wrong with his reflexes, thank you very much.

 

Mac continued what he was saying. “So, there's nothing keeping you from sucking me off, right?”

 

Jack grinned. “Right.” Jack shifted until Mac's cock was even with his mouth and licked a long stripe from base to tip. Mac groaned at the hot, wet tongue along his length. “God, Jack, just like that.” Jack licked again, this time pausing at the top to swirl his tongue around the tip, dipping it into Mac's slit to lap up the precome beading there. “Yes, Jack, oh god, that feels so good.”

 

Jack set up a rhythm, taking Mac deep, then pulling slowly off and running his tongue along the crown. Soon, Mac was a moaning, writhing mess, every nerve ending in his body alight in pure pleasure. “Jack, god, Jack, more, please!”

 

Jack sped up slightly, driving Mac into a litany of incoherent noises. He spiraled up and up, flying higher than he ever had before until he exploded into a million pieces, coming hard down Jack's throat.

 

Mac came down slowly, feeling loose and sated. “God, Jack, that was so good. I don't think I've ever felt anything like that in my life.” He realized Jack's cock was lying neglected inches from his face and set out to rectify that. He took Jack in his mouth and slid slowly up, repeating the motion until Jack was as deep as Mac could get him, then hollowing his cheeks and sucking. Jack groaned in appreciation, and Mac continued, bobbing up and down, taking Jack deeper each time, and sucking occasionally. It didn't take long before Mac felt Jack's body tense. “Mac, I'm going to come!”

 

Hot come spurted into Mac's mouth, and he swallowed eagerly, tasting the bitter, salty taste of Jack's come, taking every last drop and licking Jack clean. When Mac was done, he wriggled around until he was once more pressed against Jack's side. “How was that?” the blond asked with a smirk.

 

Jack sighed in contentment. “Fantastic. I guess this doesn't have to affect our sex life after all, hunh?”

 

Mac leaned over to kiss Jack deeply, letting Jack taste his own come on Mac's tongue and tasting his in return. When they broke apart, Mac raised himself on his elbow,  smiling  down at Jack. “Told you so.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team returns to the field, but Jack gets some bad news.

“You wanted to see us?” Jack said as he made his way painfully into Matty's office on his crutches, Mac following behind with the wheelchair. Jack was out of the back brace and could now put some weight on his leg, though it was still in a cast, but he couldn't go distances, so the wheelchair came along just in case.

 

“Yes,” Matty said, closing the folder she was reading. She motioned to the two chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

 

The two men obeyed, Jack awkwardly stretching his bad leg in front of him. “What's up?” he asked.

 

Matty folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “I'm sending the team on a mission.”

 

Jack slapped the arms of the chair. “Great. When do we leave?”

 

“Not you,” Matty said with her usual bluntness.

 

Jack's face fell. “Why not?” Matt looked pointedly at his leg. “Okay, fine,” Jack conceded, “but you can't send the team without me.”

 

“I can, and I am,” Matty said, decisively.

 

Mac braced himself for the explosion he knew was coming. Jack didn't disappoint.

 

“Who's going to watch Mac's back?” he demanded.

 

“Cage is perfectly capable,” Matty said, calmly.

 

“No, she isn't!” Jack’s speech started slurring, he was so upset. “That's mmmyy job!”

 

“Jack, you aren't up to it,” Matty said.

 

Oh, that wouldn’t go over well. Jack refused to acknowledge that he wasn’t perfectly capable.

 

“So wait!” Jack said.

 

“Jack,” Matty said, reasonably. “I can't wait. I can't keep my best team out of the field until you're healed. Besides,” she paused.

 

“What?” Jack prompted.

 

Mac had a bad feeling about what was coming. He wasn’t wrong.

 

 

“In all likelihood, you’re not going back in the field,” Matty said.

 

Mac winced. He knew it had to be said, but couldn't she wait a little longer? Jack didn’t need to hear this now when he still had such a long way to go. He couldn't start therapy on his leg because he was still in a cast, but he'd been working so hard on his speech and his hand. He still had limited movement, but Mac knew Jack still anticipated a full recovery. Mac wasn't so sure, but he kept his opinion to himself. Jack didn't need to hear it; it would only discourage him, and Jack needed to keep his hopes up to continue his progress. Matty had just dashed them to pieces.

 

Jack went rigid. “You ddddon’t knnnow that.”

 

“Yeah, I kinda do,” Matty said. “Look, I know you want to get back into the field, but we have to face facts. Your speech will probably never be normal--”

 

Jack interrupted her. “I don’t need to. . .dammit, what’s that word? Need to. . .”

 

“Speak?” Mac prompted. Now was a bad time for Jack’s brain to short-circuit. It wouldn’t help his case.

 

“Yeah, that,” Jack said. “I just need to be able to hit things!”

 

“And that’s the other thing,” Matty said, calmly, as if she hadn’t just shattered Jack’s world. “You’ve probably got permanent damage to your left hand. You can’t tell me you don’t need that.”

 

Jack was close to tears. Mac rested his hand reassuringly on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack relaxed slightly, placing his hand over Mac’s as if to ground himself. “You cccan’t do this to me!” Jack cried in anguish. “I have to go back in the field. I’m not ready to. . .” he paused again. “Dammit!”

 

“Retire?” Mac prompted again. Two missed words in so close together. Definitely not a good sign. Jack was really upset, understandably so. Mac was afraid Matty had jeopardized Jack’s whole recovery.

 

“Jack, you don’t have to retire,” Matty said.

 

Jack was confused, but a spark of hope flashed on his face. “But you sssaid. . .”

 

“I said you couldn’t go back in the field. That doesn’t mean you can’t still work for Phoenix.”

 

“I can’t sit at a ddddesk!” Jack protested.

 

“And you’re not going to,” Matty said. “I want you to run the team’s missions.”

 

That took Jack aback. “What?”

 

“You heard me. I want you to be their handler. As much as I love the stress caused by dealing with your shenanigans, I could use the break. You’re the obvious choice. You know Mac better than anyone. If anyone can keep him reigned in, you can.”

 

“Gee, thanks, Matty,” Mac said, drily.

 

Jack was only slightly mollified. “It’s nnnnot the same.”

 

“No, but it’s what you’ve got,” Matty said. “Take it or leave it.”

 

“I’ll take it.”

 

“Good. You start now. I’ll meet you in the briefing room.”

 

Mac turned to leave. He wasn’t surprised when, instead of following, Jack plopped down in the chair, head hanging. Wordlessly, the younger agent pushed his partner out of the office. Mac let Jack wallow a few minutes before speaking. “You okay?”

 

“No,” Jack said, honestly. “How could she do that to me, Mac? She knows I’m nothing if I’m not in the field!”

 

Mac stopped and moved in front of Jack. “Don’t say that, Jack. You know that’s not true. Matty’s right—you’ll make the perfect handler for us.”

 

Jack hit the arm of the chair in frustration. “I shouldn’t be back in an office! I should be right there with you, watching your back!”

 

“You’ll still be watching our back,” Mac said. “It won’t be any different.”

 

“Yes, it will! I don’t know if I can do this, Mac!”

 

“Yes, you can,” Mac said fiercely. “You’ll do it, and you’ll be the best at it, because that’s who you are.”

 

“I’m a field agent, Mac! That’s who I am! What am I doing all this for if I’m just going to sit around and be useless?”

 

That was what Mac was afraid of. He had to make Jack see that wasn’t the case. “Listen to me, Jack. You’re not useless. You could never be useless.”

 

“Yes, I am.” Jack gestured to the chair. “Look at me. I can’t go more than a few steps without needing to sit, and you heard Matty—I’ll never be fully recovered. Why should I even bother?”

 

Mac grasped his partner’s hands, imploring him to see the truth. “Because maybe you won’t be the same, but you’re better than this. And I know you. You don’t give up. You’re not going to sit around in a wheelchair forever because you don’t have to. You’ll beat this, Jack. You will.”

 

“But what’s the point?” Jack wanted to know.

 

“The point is, even if you’re not at full strength, you’re still the toughest man I know. Don’t let anybody take that from you, Jack. Ever.”

 

“I guess.” Jack didn’t sound convinced.

 

“Jack, promise me you won’t give up, okay? Promise me.” Mac’s voice was urgent, pleading. He needed Jack to do this for him, needed his partner to keep going, needed him not to give up.

 

Jack nodded. “Alright. I promise.”

 

Mac sighed in relief. “Great.” He gave Jack a kiss, fierce but tender, trying to convey faith and love and conviction. “Now,” Mac said when they pulled apart, “let’s go. You have a mission to run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Jack's not going back to the field, but all is not lost. I warned you it would be a new normal. We'll get to see it in action next.
> 
> I'm not really happy with the ordering of these next few chapters--this and the next really ought to come after the PT chapter and be collapsed with the last chapter, but this is the way the story wanted to go, so bear with me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack runs his first mission. It doesn't go quite as smoothly as he hoped.

Running a mission was harder than Jack thought. In the field, all he cared about was getting in, getting the package, and getting out; he left all the details to someone else. Now, he was that someone else. He had to read all the background on the terrorist group they were dealing with and on the person they were trying to rescue and tell all that to the team. The advantage was he had the schematics of the compound, so he was able to mark all the potential trouble points. Plus, he knew the organization from his Delta Force days, so he was able to fill the team in on likely tactics.

 

Then, there was the waiting. It was an eight hour flight to the drop point, then another hour long drive to the compound. The first part was spent briefing the team and doing his reading, but after that, Jack was at loose ends. In the field, he used the time to sleep, following the soldier’s creed of “sleep when you can”, but back at the Phoenix office, all he could do was sit around on pins and needles waiting. It would help if he could hit the gym and work out some of his nerves, but right now, that wasn’t an option. Matty tried to send him home, but he didn’t feel right leaving the team hanging, even though they weren’t doing anything. So, he sat around driving Matty crazy until she ordered him to go someplace else.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, the team was on the ground, and Jack finally had something to do. He guided them in with no problem, but that’s where things went wrong.

 

“Jack, there’s six cells,” Mac’s voice came over the coms. “Which one is it?”

 

Jack felt panic rising. “How am I supposed to know? Pick one!”

 

“We don’t have time to search them all,” Mac said. “The guards will be here any minute. We could use a little guidance, here. Isn’t Riley providing you a feed?”

 

Oh, right. Jack studied it. The feeling of not being on the ground and able to do something was clouding his mind, and it took effort to make sense of the feed, let alone communicate it. “Third, no second cell on the left, no right.”

 

“Are you sure?” Mac asked.

 

“Yes. Wait, no third on right.” The heat signature was right there, plain as day, and he knew, _knew_ that it was third on the right, but it just wouldn’t come out right. Dammit, why couldn’t he do this?

 

“Jack!”

 

He took a deep breath. “Third on right.”

 

There was a pause. “Got it.”

 

“Great, now get out of there.”

 

“We might have a problem with that,” Mac said. “They’re coming.”

 

Jack could hear pounding feet and shouting in the background. He watched the enemy’s signatures. They were closing in on the way the team had come. There was no choice—they had to go the other way. Jack looked for a way out.

 

“Okay, turn left up ahead.” Gunfire rang out as they ran into a squad of soldiers. “What are you doing, I said turn left!”

 

“We did!” Mac said.

 

“The other left!” He was getting flustered, and things weren’t coming out right. He watched the team’s signatures backtrack, straight into another group of soldiers.

 

“Now what?”

 

“Left, no, right, no. . .Dammit, I don’t know!” He couldn’t do this. He was a failure. His only chance, and he was blowing it.

 

Mac seemed to sense his frustration. “You can do this, Jack. Take a deep breath and focus on the mission. You’ve got this.”

 

Jack did as Mac said and concentrated. He _could_ do this. This was what he was trained for. Focus. Assess. Analyze. Act. All on the fly. He did this all the time; he could certainly do it now. Jack looked at the map and tried to put himself into the team’s position. Okay, he’s on the ground, getting shot at. He has to get to safety. What would he do? Jack asked himself.

 

That did the trick. Everything clicked. “Go left, then up the stairs. You’ve got another group at the top, but there’s just two. Cage can take care of them. Then right. Another flight and the exit’s straight ahead.”

 

They followed his directions. Jack kept an eye on their signatures, adjusting his instructions on the fly. He guided them surely, and before he knew it, they were in a jeep with the package on their way to the exfil point.

 

“That’s it!” Jack whooped. “You’re home free!”

 

“You did it, Jack,” Mac said. “You did good.”

 

Jack was grinning. “Yeah, yeah, I did.” He looked to Matty for reassurance. “Didn’t I?” 

 

Matty nodded. “Yeah, Jack, you did good. I think this is going to work out just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a rough start, but he pulled it off. See, I told you things would work out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack starts physical therapy. Naturally, he pushes himself.

“Mr. Dalton, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kyle. I’ll be your therapist.” The therapist—Kyle—held out his hand.

 

Jack took it. “Jack Dalton, and this is my partner, Angus MacGyver.”

 

Mac held out his own hand. “Call me Mac.” Both men took the opportunity to appraise Kyle. It wasn’t reassuring—he looked younger than Mac, hardly old enough to be out of college. But then, Mac himself was proof age wasn’t necessarily a reflection of ability. Kyle could still be the best at what he did, even as young as he was. Matty had assured them this was the best rehab clinic in LA, and if they had enough confidence in Kyle to hire him, he was probably pretty good. In Kyle’s favor, his handshake was firm, his shoulders set, his eyes kind, and his whole air radiated confidence. Still, Mac was sure Jack had his doubts.

 

“How old are you, kid?” Jack couldn’t help asking. Mac wasn’t surprised.

 

The blond elbowed his partner in the ribs. “Jack!”

 

“What?” Jack protested. “I was just asking.”

 

Kyle smiled, no sign of offense in his gaze. “That’s alright. I get that all the time. I’m actually 30. I’ve been doing this for five years now.”

 

Mac shot Jack and “I told you so” look. “You come highly recommended,” Mac said.

 

“Thank you,” Kyle said, “but it’s all a matter of personal preference. I’ll be happy to recommend someone else if you’d be more comfortable.”

 

“Nah,” Jack said. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

“Of course.” Kyle motioned Jack over to a bench. He looked at Mac. “We’ll be about an hour if you want to come back.”

 

“Sounds good.” Mac moved to leave, but Jack grabbed his hand, clenching it tightly enough Mac was afraid he might break it.

 

“Stay,” was all the older man said, but Mac could tell from the strength of Jack’s grip the older man was more scared than he let on. Jack was still very clingy, very demanding of Mac’s presence, and very insistent on touching Mac, especially when the older man was uncertain, which happened a lot lately. Mac had held Jack’s hand through all of his many doctor’s appointments, and it looked like therapy wasn’t going to be any different.

 

Kyle’s eyes flicked between the two. “If you’re sure. . .”

 

“I’m sure,” Jack said, firmly, not letting go of Mac’s hand. “He stays.”

 

“Okay.” Kyle produced and ankle weight and strapped it around Jack’s bad leg. “Okay, we’re going to start easy. I want you to extend your leg, then release it.” He guided Jack’s leg for the first rep. Jack grimaced, but made no sound. “Good. Now, I want you to do that nine more times.”

 

Face scrunched up in concentration, Jack did as instructed, but, instead of stopping at 10, he started to extend his leg again. Kyle stopped him with a gentle but firm hand on his leg. “I said 10. You’re done.”

 

Jack struggled against Kyle’s hand. “No, I can do more.”

 

“I’m sure you can,” Kyle said, soothingly, “but you don’t need to.”

 

Jack kept straining. “Yes, I do. I can do it, I swear.”

 

“Mr. Dalton,” Kyle said in a no-nonsense voice, “it’s not a matter of what you _can_ do. If you try to do too much, you’ll hurt yourself more, and you don’t want that to happen.”

 

Jack quit fighting, visibly deflating as he slumped down on the bench. “I hate this.”

 

Jack’s reaction didn’t surprise Mac. He’d been pushing himself the entire time, first with speech therapy, then with his hand, pushing his limits and refusing to give up even when the therapists urged him too. He’d fought against being confined to the wheelchair, too, struggling to get out of it whenever Mac’s back was turned, trying to put weight on his bad leg before the doctor said, and overdoing himself on the crutches once he’d finally been okayed for them. Jack had been hounding the doctor to let him start therapy for his leg ever since he’d gotten the crutches, but the doctor had refused until he got the cast off. It had only gotten worse since Matty had told Jack he wouldn’t be returning to the field; Jack seemed determined to prove her wrong.

 

Mac rubbed a hand soothingly on Jack’s back. “I know, buddy, but you have to listen to him. Kyle knows what he’s talking about. I know you want to get back on your feet as soon as possible, but you can’t rush these things.”

 

“Your partner’s right,” Kyle confirmed. “It’s going to take time. You’re just going to have to be patient.”

 

“Fuck patient,” Jack snarled. “I’ve been patient for three months. I want this over with already.”

 

“The doctor said it’s going to take six to eight weeks, Jack,” Mac said. Never mind Jack, this was testing _his_ patience. He hated having to fight Jack every step of the way, making him slow down when he pushed too hard then got depressed when he wasn’t progressing fast enough for his liking. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

 

“Then, let’s make it six,” Jack said. He snapped his fingers at Kyle. “Let’s do another 10 reps. I got this.”

 

Once again, Kyle restrained him. “Let’s not.” Jack opened his mouth, but Kyle held his hand up to stave off Jack’s protests. “You’re going to have to trust me on this.” Jack didn’t look convinced. Kyle sighed. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. If I think you can take more, I’ll let you, but you have to listen to me, okay?”

 

Jack looked hopeful. “So, 10 more reps, then?”

 

“Not today,” Kyle said. Jack opened his mouth again, but Kyle went on as if Jack hadn’t tried to speak. “Today, I’m getting a feel for where you’re at and what you’re capable of, so we’re just going to take it easy. Then, we’ll draw up a plan. We’ll aim for making it as aggressive as possible, but you have to tell me if I’m pushing you too hard.”

 

“Deal,” Jack said. Mac knew there was no way Jack would ever admit it was too much, though. Mac would just have to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn’t overdoing it. Jack looked out for him all the time; it was only fair Mac looked out for him as well.

 

Kyle looked relieved. “Alright, then, Mr. Dalton. Let’s get you back on your feet, shall we?”

 

Jack and Mac wholeheartedly agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I have little knowledge of physical therapy for this kind of thing, so my apologies for any inaccuracies.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's first day back at Phoenix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little welcome back and introduction to the new normal to round out the story.

“Howdy, cowboys and cowgirls.  Jack is back!”  Jack strode into the Phoenix offices brandishing his cane.  It was the first time he’d come in under his own power in over five months, and Mac was almost as proud of the accomplishment as Jack himself was.  Sure, Jack still needed a cane (he liked to pretend it was just for show, but Mac had caught him leaning on it when no one was looking), and he’d probably always have a slight limp, but it was barely noticeable unless he was tired.  Mac was also pleased there was no trace of a slur or hesitation in Jack’s speech, something else that only surfaced when he was tired or upset.  Jack’s left hand was still a problem—he still didn’t have full range of  motion, and he still lacked strength in it, but he’d gotten to the point where he could actually fire a gun with his left hand.  He could only get off a shot or two before his hand gave out, but he made those shots count.  No doubt about it—Jack was deadly with whatever hand he used, even now.

Employees swarmed Jack, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back, and otherwise offering welcome backs and congratulations.  It was a testament to how popular and well-respected Jack was that so many people came to give him their well wishes.  Jack took it all in stride, holding forth like a king holding court.  Mac knew Jack had missed Phoenix during his time out—he’d been in, but only to run the team’s missions, and Matty tried to keep those to a minimum, sending them out only when she had to.  She knew Mac’s place was by Jack’s side, and she respected that.  Now, though, Jack was back full time, and Mac knew the older man was glad of that.

Matty came out of the briefing room and addressed Jack.  “If you’re through distracting my employees, we have a job to do.”  Her voice was stern, but a hint of a smile played across her face.  Mac knew the director would never admit it, but he was pretty sure Matty missed Jack, too.

“Be right there.”  Jack headed into the briefing room, followed by Mac.  Riley and Bozer were already waiting.  Jack immediately plopped down on the couch, stretching his bad leg in front of him.  Mac watched his partner with concern, hoping all the walking about wasn’t already taking a toll on him.  “What’ve we got?”

Matty passed Jack a folder.  “Suspected arms dealer in the Middle East.  Intel has it he’s been supplying some pretty high profile terrorist groups.  We need to take him out, but we also need his customer list.  Mac, Cage, you’ll take care of the dealer.  Riley, you’ll go after the customer list, but you’ll need to be on the ground—we can’t get a good link from here.  Bozer, Cage and Mac will need disguises, so that’s your area.  Jack, you’ll be running the op as usual.  Any questions?”  Everyone shook their heads.  “Good.  Wheels up in an hour, so grab your stuff.”

Riley and Bozer made their way out of the room.  Mac lingered, wanting to reassure himself Jack was fine.

“What are you still doing here?” Matty demanded of Jack.

Jack looked up at her, confused.  “Just familiarizing myself with the file.  I know they won’t be on the ground for a few hours, but I thought I’d get a head start now, and we can go over anything necessary while they’re on the plane.”

“Why aren’t you going with them?”  Matty’s voice was no-nonsense, but Mac detected something teasing underneath it.  Was this going where he thought it was?

“Because I’m not cleared for field work,” Jack said, the “duh” clear in his voice.

“So?” Matty snapped.  “I need you on the ground there, not lollygagging around here.”

Mac grinned.  Yep, this was going where he thought.  Good for Matty.

Jack still didn’t get it.  “Huh?”

“I told you, communication’s spotty, and we can’t get a good link.  You can do a better job if you’re over there.”

Hope blossomed on Jack’s face.  “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Matty said.  “Make no mistake, you’re staying out of the field.  You’ll be at the command post with Riley and Bozer, but you’ll still be there.  Just. . .”

“I know, I know,” Jack said.  “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, you better get used to it,” Matty said, the grin she was clearly trying to hide sneaking out in a slight twitch of the sides of her mouth.  “You’re going with them as much as possible from now on.  You’ll be more efficient that way, and it’ll be easier to get them out if things go south.  I was going to say, just take care of yourself.”

Jack grinned.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Matty made a shooing motion at him.  “So, go already.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Jack went, Mac trailing after him.

It was good to have Jack back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Matty hates being called ma'am, but I can't see Jack ever stopping--he's too Southern for that.
> 
> Hope this ending's upbeat enough for you. Jack make not be back in the field, but he's as close as he can get, and you can bet he'll still be driving the getaway car!
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this little journey into uncharted territory. It's been a good experience and a good way to broaden my writing horizons. Thank you all for your support along the way. Hope you enjoyed it, too!


End file.
